


The Chase

by Djinngin



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Forced Feminization, Forced Orgasm, Gore, Hip Bone Fetish, I'am proud of myself, Lap Sex, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nerve Stimulation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, This is essentially 7000 words of smut, is that a thing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:43:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3928615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djinngin/pseuds/Djinngin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A game of unwilling hide and seek becomes something else entirely. Waylon, in a desperate attempt to outrun other patients lands himself at the mercy of The Groom who takes an all to involved interest in him. </p><p>----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br/>Loving Outlast way too much, with an unhealthy focus on these two. I'm sure the creators new exactly what they were doing when they thought out their interactions. Comments greatly appreciated as I'm new to the whole 'explicit sex' thing although I managed to write eleven pages of it so I must be doing something right!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chase

All he knew was running. An education was nothing in these dank halls and cavernous rooms. Run, hide, run, hide, and check your surroundings if you even got that split second chance, before the blood caught up to you. His feet smacked painfully against the cracked tile flooring, the burn only welcome because he knew it meant he was _alive_. The echoes of the asylum were branded into his mind, he didn’t care how long he’d spent in here since everything had gone to hell, right now was all that mattered and getting out his mantra. With weariness to his gait Waylon rounded a blessedly open door, his back smacking against the smeared glass to slam it shut. This time, he hadn’t been running from a crazed patient, but rather just trying to find a new safe house of sorts - His previous having been turned into the Cannibal’s personal kitchen. He needed this space; he didn’t want to need it and hoped that he would never have to look at it again, but he _had_ to stop running for one minute, to remember what breathing normally actually was. Perhaps even come up with some sort of plan.

His body ached terribly; his chest stoked a ball of flames rising to burst out and thumping in his throat. The camcorder he held tightly in both hands like a rosary, keeping him grounded. With a shaky exhale he slid down against the door the rough back of the jumpsuit catching on uneven grain leaving wisps of pulled out cotton.  Everything hurt, he couldn’t remember ever hurting this much. It radiated to his core, his mind broken but still forcibly present as if desperately trying to find itself. With lidded eyes he took in his current prison, a bland office decorated by dust and broken glass, death had yet to coat it. His gaze centred on the broken glass circling the left leg of a desk its shiny sharp corners tempting… he wouldn’t do it, he needed to get out and he refused to die here. On the desk sat a metal, tarnished pitcher, the light creeping about its top. Eyes widening Waylon scrambled from the floor to the desk, his hands grasping the wood to pull himself up and then to enclose the pitcher. It was cold, the best sensation Waylon had felt in a long time, he tipped the pitcher towards him and barked out a single laugh at its contents, water. He drank desperately not caring how much dust filmed it or how long it had been there. His throat screamed at the sudden cold and moisture, echoing his quickened heartbeat in a steady thrum. Releasing the desk from his iron grip he slumped back down to the floor crunching glass underneath. Finally removing trembling lips from the drained pitcher, he closed his eyes feeling waves of satisfaction as his body began putting the vital fluids to use. It was a rich heady sensation brought on by clear life blood, no drugs or sexual experience could compare to it in that moment.

The sound of a scream coming closer and crashing debris cut into his silence, Waylon held in the yelp that bubbled up and scrambled away circling the desk to huddle against a corner wall. The burn in his feet started up again as if ready to take flight again. The hideous scream built to its crescendo behind the door to Waylon’s current hiding place. His eyes darted about, spying a vent to the far left of the door as his getaway he sprang onto his haunches ignoring the burn. A shadow was violently slammed against the thick mottled glass window of the door and with it the screaming suddenly stopped along with Waylon’s movement. Red began to pour against the glass from the shadows upmost point. He heard gurgling, attempts at more screams but it appeared to only create more red. Waylon was frozen in place confused at what was taking place, amazed at the fact that this place still seemed to surprise him. With a gradual slump the body slid down and away from the door, leaving a smeared red brown stain in its wake and a heavy thud to the floor. It was then that Waylon took note of the steady squeak and clack of boots against tiling, its calm terrifying him even more, blotting everything else out.

“Darling…” The new voice created a painful twist in Waylon’s stomach as it coiled out from the silence, “How many times must I tell you, a proper lady must enunciate! That vile sound will never do…” the mirth in the new voice made him shudder. The boot falls became louder, closer, until the glass became darkened by a much larger shadow. He watched the form bend down briefly disappearing,

“My dear, this is very unbecoming” the voice sighed, the gravelly tone making the words richer, “You’ve made a mess…” there was a grunt, followed by a wet _shink_ and another thud. Waylon was transfixed as the dark mass reappeared once more in the cloudy glass. The wooden frame surrounding the glass panel cut off anything above the jaw while the thick neck and broad shoulders cut out most of poor lighting trying to get through and a tapered waist lead to further unknowns.

There was a heavy silence and Waylon prayed it wasn’t because of him, the glass was opaque, whatever that thing was couldn’t see him, could it? His breathing had lowered to a point that he couldn’t hear it, _“please go, please go, please go”_ the chant played in his mind getting faster the longer Waylon stared at the shadow, currently his unknown captor. A quick noise came from the form, making Waylon visibly jump, an inhale? His confusion was unfortunately answered when the creature inhaled once more, a slow and explorative sniff of the air. Could the creature actually smell him? Waylon licked his lips anxiously, ready to bolt but daring not to move. As if signalling his cue a large hand pressed against the glass, breaking the smear of blood,

“Darling?...” The voice was disturbingly low, almost a growl, it broke Waylon out of whatever spell had weighted his legs and sprang into action. He leapt up and onto a supply case, ripping away the weakened grate to the vent and ducking inside just as the abused door was ripped off its hinges.

“Dearest? Are you in here?” Waylon scrabbled through the vent, the radiating vibration of destruction fuelling his speed, “Do not fret sweetling that _whore_ meant nothing to me!”, Waylon pulled himself to the end of the vent, his camcorder clutched close to his chest as he rolled inelegantly into a corridor, “these filthy wastes are nothing compared to you!” the voice continued as Waylon landed on his back holding in the pained yelp and shakenly got to his feet, “I’ve been searching for you my love!” the voice continued, he stood a good several feet away from the room he’d been in and took in the gory sight of the naked, torn up body at the foot of the doorway. The stab wounds still leaked with blood and the fresh metallic smell caught against the back of Waylon’s throat. A heavy boot breached the surface of blood and Waylon’s attention was drawn once more,

“There you are! Playing games I see” Waylon gave a quick shriek before sprinting away once more, ignoring the protests of his body and the pleas of the madman behind him. He had to get away, couldn’t let it catch him. He heard sweet sentences of endearment on the airways as he fled, ignoring the rough voice and its enjoyment of the chase. He had no clue why it thought he was his _‘Darling’_ and certainly wasn’t sticking around to find out why. Through the darkness Waylon panicked, realising he was quickly running out of corridor, a barred up gate clearly making its presence known. He slammed against the bars, the ringing deafening him momentarily as he cursed, stealth obviously out the window. He turned, dark curls of sweat damp hair sticking to his jaw and forehead. The creature was there, walking calmly closer, producing a lilting laughter as if this was really a game.

“Darling, it appears I have won this little game…” The mad man was at the other end of the corridor, Waylon shivered at the smile directed at him, partially concealed by the broken lighting “you look a little tired, don’t worry I’ll take care of you…” The creature purred and Waylon gulped back his screams he wouldn’t give it the satisfaction. He clung to the chains which refused his passage, wishing he could melt through the iron. The madman was getting closer, still in that calm step.

“No, no, no” Waylon frantically muttered to himself, eyes trying to lock on to anything that might help. His sights connected on to a door partially concealed by a mess of battered surgical trolleys and a filing cabinet. He sprang to action, hearing the creature yell abuse upon realising where Waylon was headed. With what strength he had left Waylon pushed through the trolleys, shoving them into the direction of the oncoming beast,

“This is getting tiresome, dear!” The madman roared, crashing against whatever furniture was in his way, “I only want to help you!”. Waylon ignored the shouts, reaching for a door handle that was blessedly unlocked. The younger man slid between the frame and door, gasping at the sensation of fingers reaching for his hair. The door slammed behind him, a thump of something heavy followed by more booms of that creature’s rough voice. His hands found the lock on the door, twisting it hard as if it would make a difference. They always found a way in.

The room was huge, but filled with various furniture, broken machines and debris. An orange lighting slid its way through from the dirty windows making it hard to see what was covered in grime and what wasn’t. He had to hide, the madman would find something else to satisfy it eventually, move on, he hoped. A crashing sound broke the momentary quiet resulting in Waylon running to the closest viable hiding place. He wedged himself underneath an abandoned doctors table, hoping that the murky lighting would aid in keeping him safe. He tried to control the unsteady breath’s that heaved from his throat. A crash came from nearby echoing in the cavernous room. It couldn’t have been anyone else, it couldn’t have been a coincidence he wasn’t lucky enough for that. So why was it now so quiet? He felt loud in the silence, the creak of his bare and clammy feet against the side of the desk, his slowly normalising heart beat pounding in his chest and skull.

“Dearest, I know you’re in here” The deep voice resonated fiercely in the darkness. It terrified Waylon, this was smart, aware and had a goal, _him_.

“I’ve apologised haven’t I? It’s very unfair of you to deny me…” the tone disturbed Waylon, completely calm and sweet compared to the raging only moments ago. Waylon felt the boards creak and shift underneath, the creature felt so close while his voice seemed far away. He couldn’t judge it, would probably not know when he was right on him, the twisting in his stomach reignited and he curled tighter against the desk and wall.

“Hmm… Where are you hiding my love? Don’t be afraid… “, Waylon tried to block out the deep voice. He’d ignored it while running for his life the pounding of his feet the only sound he wanted to hear. But now, in the still and quiet, there was something cloying in that voice was torture, the loudest thing in the room that the ringing in his ears had no chance of blocking out. He had never been, nor never even considered himself attracted to the same sex. His cherished Lisa his first and only love from their teenage years to present. But in that moment his body didn’t care what vessel that voice was coming from, underneath it suggested a tenderness that had been taken from him; stolen away when Blair had decided to use him as his personal experiment.

“Please my dear, we’ve been apart for so long…”, Waylon closed his eyes and grit his teeth, hoping that the blood rushing into his ears would stop the pain in his chest. That voice, unlike any of the other monstrous sounds within this tomb had creeped into the ravines of his mind where it shouldn’t be welcome. He wanted it to stop; it was driving him to depths he really didn’t want to go down.

“You know how I can make you feel my love, what my touches do to you…” The tone became softer, disturbingly flirty, impossibly so he thought for the deep, roughness of such a voice and yet it was there. This was worse than physical hurt, the words crept into his head, to then spill over his skin and the shudders renewed their vigour. Why was it affecting _him_? Had the damage to his mind made him this vulnerable to the slightest suggestion of comfort?

“I can fill you, my Darling, make you whole again… you just need to show me where you are…“, Waylon stifled a whimper at those words and a heat rose onto his skin against his will, his breathing quickening, making him feel sick. This monster was doing this to him! He wanted that voice, the warmth that lingered in those words. The primal thing growing within him, his protection in this hell, latched onto that madman’s words. He shook his head frantically trying to keep out the voice. A heavy thump snapped his eyes open to the present, his focus suddenly on two leather clad feet merely inches away from him. A pair of pinstripe suit trousers caught loosely against the boots and tapered down, soaking up the grime that seemed to be perpetually oozing from the floor. It was eerily silent, in so much that Waylon hoped he was hallucinating, he hadn’t even heard the mad man walk up to him,

“I think, my dear…” Waylon didn’t have time to prepare before a large hand wrapped around his ankle and dragged him from his hiding place, “found you!” the mad man smiled with delight,  effortlessly swapping Waylon’s ankle for his wrists as they emerged from under the table. Waylon’s heart was pounding, he was begging for a heart attack, something to get him away from this creature. All he saw was blue when he looked up, black slick hair falling over a pale and scarred brow. The dark angular curves ruined by lines of trauma, more so on one side, the gleeful smile pulled into something twisted. Waylon tried to look away but a hard and strong hand forcefully snapped him back. Those pale blue eyes, untouched and insane, he knew those eyes and it turned his blood cold.

“E-E-Eddie..” Waylon’s voice ran without his instruction, he hoped he’d never run into this particular patient, a killer of unfathomable violence and this institution had made him even worse; Waylon had even had a part to play in it.

“No! L-let go!” He attempted to kick out at the deadly pursuer, arms practically useless in their current prison. He twisted and yelled, the larger man seeming to move just in time. Waylon continued his struggles until he felt the pain and ache of a sharp smack to the left side of his face. His head ricocheted off of the tacky linoleium, deafening him briefly and bringing white spots to his vision. Once more that hand enveloped the lower part of his face grounding him,

“Darling, this playing hard to get really has to stop…” The smooth words were contrasted by the vice like grip Eddie had on Waylon’s jaw, his tone scolding, “I’ve been so patient with you, you understand don’t you?” Waylon gulped hard and nodded as best he could with the dull ache of his battered skull still at its peak. He felt hypnotised against those eyes. The pressure on his wrists increased and Waylon gasped through parched lips,

“Y-yes!” he breathed out, the pressure let off but not gone and Eddie smiled once more, eerily mimicking a lover’s gaze.

“You are so perfect for me, but really, when I say enough is enough…” Waylon felt Eddie shift, his thighs wedged between Eddies. The mad man moved the hand on Waylon’s jaw to caress the stray flicks of hair from his face. The tickles of touch made Waylon’s breath hitch, fearing the silence and the return of affection. He watched the man’s gaze taking in Waylon’s features but couldn’t read him. The red stained fingers moved further down his cheek and then to his neck and finally stopping. Waylon couldn’t help the shiver that grew from his chest, “I’ve never seen you so radiant”, the gravel was back in Eddie’s voice and the combination of tone and phrase brought a heated blush to Waylon’s face. He gulped and licked his pale lips, immediately regretting it as Eddies eyes subtly dilated. 

“You are such a tease my dear,” Waylon’s eyes widened as Eddies face lowered to his neck, the large hand on his wrists moving them down to behind his scalp where they tangled with Waylon’s hair. The tug forced him to pull his head back and neck upwards. Attempting to keep down a cry of pain he instead caught on a dry gasp as Eddie’s hot breath met his damp exposed neck, “Oh the things you do to me Darling… and who am I to deny you?” Waylon struggled fruitlessly against the thick body above him, groaning through gritted teeth as a hot tongue striped up his neck. This wasn’t happening, couldn’t be, he repeated to himself as the grip against his scalp tightened and more attention was lathed to his neck and then collar bone, he closed his eyes tight as the warm muscle began easing away layers of pain and hate that had tensed the tendons there. His body needed this, the thought freezing his mind with terror. To his body so abused from running and torture it was reaching for the first taste of tenderness it could get. It left a sickening lump in his throat. His back arched up from the floor as the huge hand trapping Waylons wrists tugged more at hair and muscle, using Waylon’s spine as leverage to scoop up more soft damp skin to drag Eddies tongue against,

“No – p-please”, Waylon gasped out, his head too dizzy from lack of oxygen and too full of sensation. The man chuckled darkly enjoying Waylon’s response,

“I always knew this was your weak spot dearest” Eddie rumbled against the hollow of Waylon’s collar bone. “I missed you so, your ivory skin…”

“N-no Eddie!.. I’m n-not – ngh! - who you t-think I am” Waylon panted out, attempting to pull his legs out from Eddies strong grip. The hand relaxing against Waylon’s neck began to tighten; squeezing the thin skin and tendons to surely bruise, a groan was cut off from Waylon’s throat as a thumb pressed against his windpipe,

“I warned you your games were trying my patience” Eddie sighed, but there was a clear threat there as the grip remained, “You cannot tease me, to then not see it through…”, the younger man could all but stare in dumbfounded confusion, at what point had he teased? His soundless response made Eddie tighten his grip further on Waylon’s neck, blunt nails slicing into the skin. Waylon gasped out a high whine as he silently pleaded to the madman above him. Writhing below he watched through tear filmed eyes at Eddie, the larger mans eyes lowered as a grin played on his lips,

“How can I resist those eyes…” Eddie growled, releasing the pressure suddenly. Waylon arched even further into the hard heat above him, gasping for air and hating his body for its desperate need to preserve itself.

“S-st… stop! P-please” His voice sounded broken, a rumbling chuckle came from above him and he had to force down the maddening desire to ram his head into Eddie’s teeth. He didn’t want to die, certainly not by his methods,

 “Oh darling, I hardly think we can stop now... I can taste the want in your skin, dearest, never have I known a woman with such dark longings”

“I’m not a wo-mmph!” Waylon’s croak was cut off as Eddies scarred lips parted his own, delving forcefully to slide against the younger man’s tongue.  He tried to move away but the hand on his neck shifted to hold his jaw open. The pressure remained on his windpipe, undulating as the force of the kiss came and went. Waylon felt as if he was drowning, he didn’t want this and his struggles underneath the goliath madman only seemed to fuel his actions. Eddie tasted like iron, the tang stung his tongue as saliva rolled and merged – a poison filling him up and pouring down the sides of his mouth, just like Eddie had said. His hair was pulled back to its limit to try and gain more access to Waylon’s mouth, cupping the back of his head in a disturbing reflection of care. He had barely got his breath back before but yet again Waylon couldn’t breathe. The electricity of panic curling in his chest as he subconsciously met the rolls of the mad man’s tongue and lips, body now on pure instinct with its limited oxygen. His body hiccupped and writhed against Eddie’s broad chest, feet sliding against the wet floor, calves and thighs tightly pressed together and desperately trying to curl up. Waylon let slip a high whine and Eddie released him, body falling like a puppet. He sucked up the hot air between them desperately; chest rising and falling like a battered cage as he rolled glazed eyes up to the killer above him, appearing calm and with not a sign of fatigue.

“Oh darling, how I have missed you…” Waylon’s eyebrows weakly knotted together, eyes squinting against the darkness to see Eddie once more searching his face, a smile playing on his lips. He needed to get away before he just completely gave into his body’s desires. The scrutiny of the mad man’s watch only burned into his resolve more, he knew that the man would more than likely kill him after this, knew the way it would probably happen. He knew how Eddie wanted to ‘fix’ people, his many departed loves. Had seen bodies only a few hours ago that suggested that The Groom indeed inhabited these halls, why had he not got out of here when he had the chance? He felt hot tears spring from the inner corners of his eyes, a mix of fear, pain and desperation,

“So innocent…” Eddie purred, a barely there rumble that Waylon felt more in their contacted bodies than heard. The mad man leaned down to lick up the salted water and Waylon shuddered “Such passions of the flesh are still new to you… don’t worry my love, I shall be gentle, I will open you slowly” The words mortified and panicked Waylon and renewed his want of escape even more, bucking against his captor. The return of a large hand against his jugular stopped him dead, not yet squeezing but threatening the same treatment as earlier, “Shhhh…” Eddies lips had moved closer to Waylon’s ear, the gentle puff of air creating a shiver that pulled his eyes to close,

“I believe I feel the same as you darling, I fear I can no longer hold myself back, your eyes, your lips, they draw me in…” The shivers were radiating even more now, each flick of tongue or click of spit in those soft words trapped him further into this mad man’s delusion. His struggling had stopped and it terrified him. He was startled from his haze by a heavy, warm hand pressing against the front of his jumpsuit, searching and finding the zip that tucked against his chest. Eddie began to pull the zip down, whispering darkly sweet words to Waylon as he did,

“I know how lonely you are my love, I to feel that ache, how much you’ve been waiting…” Waylon could feel the slowly unlinking chain of his zip bump against his sternum, along with the painful rhythm of his heart, “wanting someone to slide up into that secret place” he gasped shakily as he felt the slide of lips against his ear, felt the hot air against his exposed chest, “you want someone to make your perfect, to make you whole,” He felt weak against this man and he hated it. He wanted to run from those words, their silky sounds travelling down to breed a heat in his stomach,

“No – I”

“Shhhh….”  Waylon released a barely there whimper, Eddies hands finally finding their way underneath his protective shell, fingers massaging and exploring soft flesh above unyielding muscle. They lingered across pronounced hip bones delicately rising from slowly bruising skin. Lisa had loved his hips, the way they tapered and outlined the hint of toning that patterned his stomach and abdomen. It now appeared they had another admirer, as Eddie traced one side dangerously low to the slide across and explored up the other, “such exquisite anatomy, perfect for bearing our little ones…”

“Wait – Wha-argh!” Waylon jerked in panic, close to breaking his nose against the killers shoulder before he was roughly forced back down. His lips were once again enveloped by the others, just as hard and all-consuming as before. He couldn’t process the words quick enough before hands were in his hair and on his chest, pulling strands and exploring the slight curvature of his pectorals, nipples pronounced from the fevered heat and arousal that was terrifyingly increasing. A calloused thumb brushed over one of the raised nubs, causing Waylon to groan in surprise writhing up and against the warm body above, trapped between Eddie and the floor.

                His attempts to break free were slowly diminishing too little than just writhes, body desperate for more of those deviant touches. His reactions to the calloused fingers against his chest only spurred Eddie on, Waylon unintentionally aiding the spiral of delusion.

                “They try to keep us apart my love…” Those blue eyes, now clouded with lust, closed as Eddie once more began to lavish attention of Waylon’s neck as both of his dangerous hands latched to the smaller man’s nipples. The rough pads rolled and pulled cleverly, eliciting sharp breathes from Waylon. He squeezed the flesh at a sickeningly slow rhythm drawing out the pain to heady pleasure. The static curled itself down to his abdomen, adding to his defiantly growing erection. He prayed it wouldn’t catch the madman’s attention and snap him out of whatever delusion he was in. Why was this killer so good at this? Waylon didn’t want this, he really didn’t. He repeated it to himself, each time the meaning of the words turning to mush.

“I will have to be destroyed before they can keep me from you…” The words were but a growl, the sentiment making Waylon blush as if they were really directed at him. Hands melted from his chest to move further down, rolling against the outlines of cuts and bruising and catching once more on the bone of his hips. It was then that Waylon realised his hands were no longer pinned; he raised them away from the floor slightly in surprise hoping Eddie wouldn’t notice. With the killers ministrations further down Waylon eyes flitted for something to pull up against or to maybe knock the man out. Anything to get out and away from the touches that felt like they were slowly killing him. His eyes locked on to a rotten plank of wood a few feet away and his vision glittered with a mix of relief and adrenaline. Those lips were still on him, tongue trailing and cleaning away all the blood that coated his lower torso. Waylon choked on sharp gasps as nerves were pressed against to send waves of sensation down to pool between his legs. He stretched his arm out carefully, listening to the continued whispers of love and devotion in case they suddenly stopped. The plank was so close; within arm’s reach he was sure. Another slick massage against his left hip, a particularly sensitive nerve nestled there and Waylon involuntarily whined as it was repeatedly tortured, a dark laugh coming from Eddie. He heard the zipper pull once more as his abdomen was exposed to those clever lips.

“You are so beautiful…” Waylon tried to ignore the adoration in that voice, _‘need to get away, need to escape’_ he strained ever so slightly feeling the pull in his shoulder as he tried desperately to reach for the wooden weapon. His fingers brushed the rough edge just as he felt the ministrations below stop. Waylon’s stomach made an almighty plummet, assuming his plans had been discovered. That was until both of Eddie’s large hands gripped at Waylon’s hips tightly, flipping him over, his face meeting cold clammy linoleum. His body was weighted once more, the hard chest of The Groom pressing firmly against Waylon’s back and a warm hand slipping underneath his jaw to raise his head his back arching painfully in sequence. He gasped, windpipe abused once again by the awkward position as Eddie began planting more heated kisses against Waylon’s neck and shoulder,

“I need you my dear, I know you feel it to” Eddie breathed in deeply against his damp neck and raked teeth over flesh, Waylon let go of a desperately held back whimper wishing to God that Eddie didn’t hear it. He wished for violence and pain, the force of trauma far more desirable than the delusion that he was being dragged into. The pain he could handle - it made him run faster – the sensations he was feeling right now made him want to stay, it terrified him. Waylon was released of the painful hold, startled into a gasp as he felt the shifting of his jumpsuit once again as Eddie peeled it away from his sweat soaked skin, maddeningly slow, bordering on sensual.

                “Your skin is heavenly darling” Eddie growled, following the removal of cheap fabric with kisses and bites, Waylon jerked against the tacky floor whenever Eddie caught a nerve. He groaned as he felt heat rising once more, why wasn’t he running?! His fingers curled against the floor, nails digging into the uneven surface. Eddie’s tongue felt too good, the whispers and touches paralyzed him; had he really fallen so far?

                “Eddie – I don’t want this-Ahh!” Waylon yelped as Eddie groped against his ass, a finger teasing the parting flesh,

                “I know your shy darling” Eddie had lowered himself once more over Waylon, bodies separated by a thin slice of warm air, “But I can ignore your vulgar area just this once, a husband must provide for his wife after all” Waylon could hear the hint of a grin, deluded sincerity and adoration. Waylon forcefully cringed at the mention of his ‘vulgar area’, his mind reeling over thoughts of what Eddie had done to his other poor victim’s vulgar bits. The vibrant imagery had almost brought Waylon back to himself until two of Eddie’s long fingers shoved their way past Waylon’s lips. He choked loudly, squirming against the floor and Eddie’s back frantically before one of his nipples was enclosed and rolled roughly,

                “Hush dearest…” Eddie warned, squeezing Waylon’s left pectoral with the palm of his hand while his thumb and forefinger teased against his nipple once more.  The smaller man whined against Eddie’s fingers hating the sensation his touches brought, “there we go…” Eddie kissed against the back of Waylon’s neck as his fingers started to slide within Waylon’s mouth. His jaw strained against the intrusion as the deft digits worked slowly pressing down against his tongue and dragging against lips. Waylon felt himself be lifted up, his knee’s trapped wide against the outside of Eddie’s and his back moulded against the muscled torso behind him. His jumpsuit slid until it met his knees; the zipper biting into his lower thighs. With no choice he let himself be man handled until he was once again pulled taut, his fingers gripped onto Eddie’s collar as his knees struggled in his precarious position.

It was beginning again; the hypnotic slowness of before, the same dizzying suffocation that had begun Waylon’s deep descent into madness. He felt it again, Eddie’s fingers invading the back of his mouth and collecting saliva to dribble down Waylon’s chin. His eyes fluttered close against his will, the sharp pull of his trapped nipple suddenly lubricated by his own spit. Eddie chuckled as Waylon let go another muffled groan, his skin heating even more in shame as he felt the heaviness of himself grow between his thighs. It disturbed him that the culprit of such unspeakable murders, the lunatic that had screamed wild and unhinged before being plunged into the engine could be so passionate. Waylon grunted at his thoughts, remembering that Eddie was currently under his own delusion, fuelled by said engine. He stiffened as he was pressed further into Eddie’s chest, his recollection of events reigniting his fear for the man behind him,

“I want to do unspeakable things to you…” Eddie rumbled against his neck, fingers continuing to penetrate his mouth, the slow languid strokes driving Waylon closer to hysteria, “Can you imagine, these fingers inside you” Waylon felt the slight scrape of nail against his tongue and jolted at the sensation, his backside rubbing against the large and heavy heat of Eddie’s arousal, the killer chuckled, “so impatient” he scolded, twisting Waylon’s left nipple once more before reaching to his right. The dry tug was back and the smaller man arched into the touch, his body craving it. Eddie removed his fingers, leaving a glittering string of spit, Waylon’s heart began to beat anew as he watched those fingers lower and disappear in-between them. He felt trails of moisture against his back, leaving clues of how close those clever fingers were to his hole. Two fingers, not coated with his spit, caressed each cheek as Eddie hummed and sucked against Waylon’s neck, prodding against the soft flesh there as another circled teasingly towards his entrance. It was then that he felt the strange intrusion of Eddie’s finger, Waylon gasped and groaned, his mouth now free to vocalise his discomfort,

“Don’t worry darling, it will feel wonderful soon”, Eddie delved further in, inching back every so often before venturing forward once more. Waylon had begun to sweat anew, his skin shiny and fevered. He hated the slowness, his ability to feel every stroke and slide. He shook his head frantically, jerking when Eddie pulled against his nipple, sending jolts down to his already painfully hard erection. He wanted to touch himself badly - his patience in foreplay had always been abysmally short – however he forced himself to keep his fists latched onto Eddie’s lapel and collar, terrified that the Groom may change his mind and lop his dick of there and then,

“Ngh! Wh- Wha?!” Waylon’s thoughts of gore were quickly shattered, Eddie having glided against Waylon’s prostate with evil accuracy, “N-no, Eddi- aaaaah!” Waylon cried brokenly as Eddie thrust his digit once more,

“Found you” Eddie grinned, enjoying the blissful sounds coming from his beloved. He added another finger, receiving a strangled yelp as he buried both fingers deeply into Waylon. The cruel slide began again and picked up pace, Eddie hitting that heady bundle of nerves with each strike. Waylon keened at the burn, a new and dizzying euphoria blurring his vision with white. His hips began grinding back of their own accord seeking those powerful digits, nonsense falling from his lips too slurred that even he couldn’t understand it. He dared to look down, watching his own cock bob in twin tandem to Eddie’s flingers and deep red at the tip. He could feel it building at the base, the throbbing too much,

“E-Eddie…” Waylon choked out between dry gasps,

“Mmm… I love you when you’re like this…” Eddie crooned against Waylon’s ear, sending a wave of shiver to encircle his gut. A third finger teased dangerously close to Waylon’s entrance and he writhed anew,

“I c-can’t-“, Waylon was cut off as his prostate was abused once more, his eyes rolling back as his head lolled against Eddie’s broad chest.

“I know darling, you’ve been so patient” Eddie’s fingers retreated, his other hand sliding up to pluck Waylon’s hands from their vice grip on his shirt. Waylon sagged, suddenly feeling empty, the weakness in his shoulders from straining apparent. Effortlessly he encircled both of the smaller man’s wrists once more, the strength in his hold made Waylon shudder; “I do believe you’re ready” Waylon felt himself moved once more, Eddie’s thighs lowering until he was knelt below Waylon. With a yelp he felt Eddie’s fingers once again prodding at his tender entrance, keeping him off balance while his hands were shifted to be held against his back,

“I will make you mine completely” Eddie’s voice was clouded with heat, Waylon’s head lolled forward as his chest heaved trying once more to win against the sensations. He was trapped, his desire to run extinguished, his fear for the creature behind him shattered by pure base need. The clever, loving words that spilt from The Groom’s lips mixing up Waylon’s mind and making him more confused than he’d ever been in his life. His body was begging for this, his mind breaking just to be able to release. He felt his dick throb at the soft words whispered in his ear, scenes of ripped stockings and quivering thighs, of him sucking Eddie’s dick like the _dirty girl_ he was. The fingers inside him scissored against his soft flesh before retreating, Waylon strained against the strong grip that held him before being pulled flush once more,

“I’m going to fill you up now darling” Eddie growled against his ear,

“Y-yes…” the words tumbled out without thought, Waylon rocking against the heat behind him, his own arousal past the point of painful. The heavy weight of Eddie’s cock rocked against Waylon’s ass and he groaned loudly – completely broken - he needed that heated flesh, wanted it inside him. He felt wetness rub around his hole and he leaned into the touch,

“Please, please-“ The words tumbled out and Eddie complied, sliding himself between Waylon’s parted cheeks and pressing into the tender hole. A choked scream fled out of Waylon’s lips, his heart suddenly picking up pace. The dry burn was unbearable, his arousal diminishing slightly, senses returning. His head was suddenly twisted to the side and Eddie’s lips latched once more onto his. A quivering groan escaped Waylon’s mouth feeling both Eddie’s tongue and cock delve into him, owning him completely. His eyes flutter close as he returned the kiss, leaning in as he wass further impaled onto the pulsing heat below. He felt every slide and groove of vein, the width and length pushing him to the edge of consciousness; he never wanted it to stop. The chest behind him heaved in time with his, wrists now completely numb from the grip of Eddie’s hands.  A final thrust and Eddie was completely within him, leaving Waylon gasping as his lips were released,

“Oh fuck!” Waylon breathed out raggedly as Eddie began to rock into him, pace becoming faster. It was nothing like the slow torture of before, seduction replaced by sheer want of dominance.

“Such a filthy mouth” Eddie muttered darkly, releasing Waylon’s wrists to latch onto his waist, fingers digging into his prominent hip bones. Waylon felt so full, each delirious slide rubbing against his already swollen prostate. The Groom’s fingers began kneading the flesh on his stomach, finding those treacherous nerves and sending waves of electric down to jolt his hips further onto Eddie’s huge cock. Waylon’s hands made their way to meet Eddies; nails scrambling feverously against the skin before Eddie over laced his fingers with the smaller man’s; cruelly mimicking a lover’s embrace. Eddie suddenly changed pace, sliding nearly all the way out before pounding deep once more, the wall of their hands forcing Waylon to meet Eddie’s thrusts fully, sweat beading at the tips of Waylon’s hair before falling fast with the force. The tight heat began to spiral across Waylon’s cock, each thrust bringing him closer,

“You’re going to be all mine after this darling” Eddie panted, a groan meeting the edge of his words. He pulled Waylon fully onto his cock, earning a desperate yelp from the smaller man, “say it darling” Eddie purred, holding the squirming man tightly,

“I-I’m Y-y-yourss!” Waylon hissed, the huge cock inside him stretching even further into his body, his eyes watered in frustration, “Eddie!”

“Mmmm… say it again” The Groom replied, thrusting ever so softly sending Waylon’s back into an arch,

“I’m yours! I’m yours!” Waylon cried; he was so close his whole body was shaking. The larger man laughed softly behind him and picked up pace once again, becoming faster than before as Waylon’s knees lifted with every push, “Oh god, oh god, oh god!” He couldn’t take it, the brutal pounding removing every thought from his head apart from the sinful slide of skin against skin. A sudden change of angle had him coming painfully hard, his prostate abused to its limit,

“I’m, I’m-“, his words were broken by a silent shriek, strands of milky fluid leaving his cock in energetic spurts. He twitched in Eddie’s arms as he continued his assault, the last drops of his climax dripping to coat the underside of his softening arousal.

“Good girl” Eddie praised and Waylon shuddered, knowing he’d pretty much sealed his fate but still too high on his climax to care. He felt the stuttered rhythm of Eddie’s hips before the killer twisted Waylon’s neck once more do delve against his lips. The larger man groaned into the warm cavern of Waylon’s mouth before he spilled himself deep. Waylon squirmed against the fluid coating his insides, marking him as Eddie’s. Teeth raked softly against his swollen lips as their eyes met, Waylon’s deep seated fear rising anew as those blue eyes captured his,

“We’re going to be so happy together”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I think I exhausted myself on this venture. I apologize if Eddie seems perhaps out of character (?) I got way too involved in the sex. 
> 
> Please comment and kudos! I'd love to hear from more Outlast lovers out there!


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